


Pillow Talk

by erikaehm



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-14
Updated: 2012-12-14
Packaged: 2017-11-21 02:39:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/592516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erikaehm/pseuds/erikaehm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Not just any story.” Jefferson admits. “Tell me about Neverland.” He keeps his tone level, acting like it doesn’t particularly matter to him at all. </p><p>Killian stills behind him. “What do you know of Neverland?” He hisses, and the knife begins to bite through the heavy fabric of Jefferson’s coat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pillow Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Jefferson uses sex to get what he wants. Information.
> 
> My first OUAT fanfic. So, be nice please. I only just caught up :p 
> 
> Random, random, random.

Pillow Talk

 

The man watches from beneath the brim of his top hat, eyes dark and intent on their target. He can feel his lips pulling into a smile and listens to his own soft, humorless snort, ears straining under the roar of drunken pirates. They haven’t got a clue, the lot of them, and that suits the Hatter’s needs just fine. In his experience those who don’t see him coming are just that bit more eager to talk.

 

He sits and bides his time in the dark, drinking mead from a filthy cup and careful not to let it go to his head. He’s discreet and efficient at what he does, normally, but this time it’s for _him_. This one is personal. There is no room for error.

 

He waits until the good Captain, unsteady on his feet, rises and cheers at his men. He’ll be returning to his cabin now for the night, but they need not rush. They’re meant to drink and plunder, and do whatever the Hell else pirates are prone to do. Jefferson could care less. He sits until the drooping tip of the Captain’s sword disappears out the door, then sets out himself.

 

The barmaid, held up as she is, giggling in the lap of a dark eyed man, doesn’t realise he’s not yet paid for his drink.

 

Jefferson curses lightly under his breath when he catches the tail end of the Captain’s coat twisting around a corner. He picks up his speed. He wants to catch the man before he boards his ship, in the dark places of the town where they won’t be heard. He tucks his hat down lower, barely able to see from under it now, and twists sharply on his heel to make the turn.

 

A ringed hand catches his throat, cool metal biting into his flesh. He hides his smile by ducking his head, letting his body go lax as he’s forced face first to the crumbling brick of a shoemakers shop. The building scrapes his cheek and brings blood to the surface, and he lets his shoulders shake with laughter, knowing it’ll be mistaken for something else.

 

“Well hello there love.” The Captain croons, all dark voice and darker intent. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

 

Jefferson is keenly aware of the knife now pressing into his ribs. “I think, Captain Jones, that I may have something you want.” He murmurs, head tilting the slightest so he can peer up at the pirate with one wild eye. “Something you might want very much.” He pulls carefully away from the blade, letting his arse grind back against Killian’s groin.

 

The pirate laughs. “You have the audacity to proposition _me_?” He asks, incredulous. “Darling don’t you know who I am?”

 

“Captain Jones.” Jefferson says into the wall. “Of course I know who you are. Did you think I was offering this because you’re a pretty face?” There’s a level of a sneer in his voice, one that has the Captain snarling and pressing closer to his back. Good. He’s not as difficult as he likes to think, then.

 

“Then you’ll know that I tend  not to care about being propositioned, when I can simply _take_ ,” He shoves his hips forward, snorting. “When I can simply _take_ whatever I want.”

 

Jefferson sighs and relaxes more. “But isn’t it so much better with a willing partner, _Captain_?” He asks, voice tinged with laughter.

 

There’s a heavy pause of silence before the Captain tucks his head down close, lips against Jefferson’s ear. “And just what would you like in return, Hatter?” He taps the brim of the top hat and Jefferson’s heart settles. The Captain doesn’t know who he is; he’s merely making an observation.

 

“A story.” Jefferson replies.

 

“A bedtime story?” And now Jefferson’s being laughed at, but he doesn’t let it get to him. “You want a bedtime story in exchange for a night with you? Not a very high price love.”

 

“Not just any story.” Jefferson admits. “Tell me about Neverland.” He keeps his tone level, acting like it doesn’t particularly matter to him at all.

 

Killian stills behind him. “What do you know of Neverland?” He hisses, and the knife begins to bite through the heavy fabric of Jefferson’s coat.

 

“Nothing. That’s why I’m asking for a story. Are you daft?” Jefferson drawls, settling himself more heavily against the wall. His mind whirls, trying to think of a way to keep this going. One that won’t result in a knife through the ribs, that is. Suddenly, his world is spinning as he’s twisted and slammed once more to the dingy brick – pressed flat against his back, now.

 

He’s only really studied the pirate Captain from afar. Up close like this, he takes an indulgent moment to drag his gaze from kohl rimmed eyes to darkly stubbled cheeks.  

 

Killian smiles in a quick flash of teeth, eyes sparkling. “I’ve a knife to your side, ready to slice up into your heart, and you think it’s the time to call _me_ daft?” His free hand rises, fingers tipping the hat up and snagging a curl of dark hair.  “Well darling, I’ll let you in on a little secret.” He leans forward and sinks his mouth around the curve of Jefferson’s jaw, worrying a mark into the skin with his teeth. “I’m rather fond of bold acts, regardless how stupid they are. Shall I show you how fond?”

 

Jefferson nudges his nose against the pirates chin, humming when Killian obligingly turns his head. He mouths over the other mans stubble down to the bobbing Adam’s apple, scraping his teeth lightly over it. “A deals a deal. I’ll be yours for the night if you tell me the story of Neverland.”

 

“Why is it you want to know?” Killian leans into the Hatter, chuckling as sharp teeth nibble harder into his throat. “Hmm, pet?”

 

“It’s hard to get somewhere when you’ve no idea of what to expect.” Jefferson says lightly, nosing up along the column of Killian’s throat, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of his ear.

 

“And you’ve plans to get to Neverland?” There’s a note of suspicion now, the hands on his hips near bruising in their grip.

 

“Ah, no. That’s nonsense.” Jefferson lies smoothly, wiggling forward. “I’ve only got an imagination that needs feeding, and an empty book that needs words.”

 

“You’re a writer, then?” Killian draws away, glancing around the alley they’ve found themselves in. “You must be strapped for ideas if you’re willing to sell your body for a pretty tale.” He cups Jefferson’s chin, and the Hatter realizes three things at once.

 

One, that the good Captain left alone for a _reason._

 

Two, that the only reason Jones had been found here in this alley, is because he _wanted_ to be.

 

And three. The womanizing pirate has known of his lie since the moment his face met the cool brick of a shoemakers shop.

 

He’s been played a fool.

 

His heart thuds painfully in his chest, adrenaline and a very real stab of fear slicing up his spine. He’s good at getting himself out of messy situations for sure; but messy and ‘deadly pirate on the hunt for a lost land’ are two _entirely_ different things. His eyes dart to the side, seeking some form of escape.

 

The knife pressed back against his ribs. Jefferson bites back a groan of frustration. “My, my. Someone looks scared. Relax darling.” Killian croons, tapping the blade against two ribs like one might a xylophone. “Color me intrigued. I’ll tell you your tale, and you’ll hold up your end of the bargain. No tricks.” He adds, dipping his head and tucking the knife back into an inner fold of his jacket. “But not here. I tend to keep my discretions not that discreet.” He smirks, taking a full step back.

 

Jefferson adjusts his hat. “Your ship, then?” He asks, eyes narrowing with mistrust.

 

“Just in case you try to slit my throat.” Killian offers, holding out a hand. “But we have a deal, so none of that messy business will be necessary, now will it?”

 

He sighs and peels himself from the brick, brushing his coat off. “I suppose not, Captain.” His voice lilts to quietly mocking. “Rather trusting, for a pirate.”

 

“I’ve got a few years of _experience_ under my belt, Hatter. You haven’t bested me yet, you won’t in the near future. Plus even if you do manage to gut me like an animal, it’s not as if you’d make it off my ship intact.” There’s darkness in his voice, the quiet promise of revenge should Jefferson betray him.

 

Jefferson really doesn’t plan on it. All he needs is for Jones to talk, to paint him an image so he can paint a new door. “I can _honestly_ say that I’ve no intent to kill you today.” He falls into step beside the other man, staring at the cobblestones as they walk.

 

“Today?” Killian laughs, one hand resting upon his sword, the other absently twirling a ruby stoned ring.

 

“Who knows what tomorrow will bring.”

 

They’d been closer to the docks than Jefferson originally intended, and he gives Killian a withering stare when the man flourishes a bow, offering his hand to help with boarding. The pirate merely smiles back, tossing him a careless wink. “I’m always a perfect gentleman, Hatter. Can’t fault for me that, can you?”

 

There were _many_ things he’d heard that Jefferson could fault this man for. “Oh?” He says, breezily, shoving the hand aside. It is technically his first ship, but he’s as unwilling as he is unable to tell this man that he’s got no love lost for the water. “Yes I do suppose threatening to cut someone’s heart open in a dank alley is absolutely _gentlemanly_. How could I not have seen it before?”

 

“Sarcasm will get you nowhere.” But really, it would get him every _thing_ , if the bulge in Jones’ trousers were any indication.

 

“Your quarters, Captain?” Jefferson drawls boredly, reaching up to tip his hat.

 

The room is eerily dark, soon fixed by Killian striking a flame against an oil lamp. The whole ship is rocking gently with the waves, and Jefferson’s stomach with it. He focuses instead on the Captain’s eyes; the man is a shark, and he’s in _his_ waters.

 

Deciding that bold is easier than thinking, Jefferson tugs at his scarf, letting it slide slowly across his shoulders before dropping it into a dark pool on the cabin floor. He huffs at the raised eyebrows it earns him and sets his hat aside on a small, worn table with much more care. He can’t help but feel naked without it, even covered as he is from the neck down. It’s an odd feeling, one that nags in the back of his mind.

 

He tells himself that this small discomfort is worth it. Soon he’ll be able to paint himself a door. He’ll be able to escape to a place where time stands still, where nothing but his work will matter.

 

“Is that it, then?” Killian muses, already shrugging out of his own jacket.

 

Determined to hold up his end of the bargain, Jefferson sets to stripping. It’s not long before he’s naked, aware that his cock is still flaccid between his legs. He feels exposed in a way he hasn’t before, and silently curses Rumpel for refusing to barter with him this time.

 

A crocodile he may be, the man is nothing but resourceful. Their combined efforts generally have... _very_ good results.

 

“Well now love; it’s no fun if you’re not interested in playing the game.” Killian sighs, stroking himself lazily.

 

 _Pirate doesn’t have a problem getting a full mast_ , Jefferson tells himself, smiling coyly – he knows it’s not a pleasant look, laced with quiet dangers that lurk in dark waters, but it does the trick nicely. “You’ve yet to interest me, Captain.” He inclines his head forward, and then hisses through his teeth as hands curl over his biceps, twirling him towards the bed.

 

“Oh pet, I’ve yet to get started. Have a little faith.”

 

 _Faith, trust, and pixie dust_ whispers Rumpel in the back of his head. He blocks out the irritating voice of his sometimes employer, snorting when he finds himself once more on his back. He stretches his arms above his head to grip lightly at the headboard, feeling the Captain nudging his legs apart. He allows them to spread, wondering what sort of pictures he makes.

 

It must be a nice one because lips settle against his throat and move downwards, teeth pausing to toy at a nipple. He bites back a sharp noise having been unaware of how sensitive that part of himself could be. “Foreplay, Captain?”

 

“I’ve already told you, I’m quite the gentleman. You offered me a willing partner, Hatter. It’s part of the deal now.” The words are murmured into his flesh, dipping low into the curve of his hips. He’s _definitely_ interested now, cock half hard and growing more full with every passing sweep of tongue against his body.

 

“Willing doesn’t necessarily negate participation.” He offers in way of explanation, breathless.

 

The hum of agreement is rumbled against the head of his dick and his toes curl into worn sheets, abdomen flexing.

 

“You’ve done this before?” Killian asks, reaching to his bedside for a jar of oil. It smells horrible, but Jefferson won’t complain. This time.

 

“Not quite.” He admits, propping himself onto his elbows to watch. “But I take it you have. What would your men say, Captain.”

 

The pirate flashes him another horrible grin. “Why Hatter, often enough they say _thank you_. You will be too, in the morning.”

 

Jefferson knows he won’t be staying until the morning. Once he’s gotten what he needs, he’ll be long gone thank you very much. He doesn’t correct the other man, choosing instead to press a foot into the mattress, give Jones more space to work. The man makes a quiet noise of approval, oil slick finger prodding at his hole.

 

As he works, Killian slides back up Jefferson’s body, until he’s pinning the man beneath his own weight, two fingers deep inside him. “Kiss me.” He commands simply.

 

“That wasn’t part, _hn_ , of the arrangement.” Jefferson pants between them, tongue flickering over his upper lip to lap away the sweat gathering there. He’s beat to the task by a rum tinged tongue, and curses softly. “You’re insufferable.”

 

“You seem to be suffering me rather well, actually.” Killian replies, conversational as he wipes his hand across the sheet. He rears up onto his knees and Jefferson watches as the pirate drizzles oil onto his cock, stroking himself to spread the slick. He’s practically glowing in the firelight, body tinged with the sweat of a day’s work, the heat that’s settling between them like an old friend.

 

“What’s to say I’m not just an incredibly good actor?”

 

Killian chuckles and pushes Jefferson’s leg further back, staring down at where his dick is slowly inching into the others body. He takes in the shudder, the little breathless groan. “That does. Won’t hurt for long, love.”

 

“Go to Hell.”

 

“Oh darling.” Killian laughs, hitching Jefferson closes by the hips. His hands, slippery with oil, scrabble for purchase. He feels ankles locking in the dip of his back, pulling him closer. Determined little Hatter, despite the pain. Killian can get behind that. He _is_ getting behind that. “You look lovely.”

 

“Don’t coddle me.” Jefferson tells him between grit teeth, eyes half lidded. “Just get on with it. Captain.”

 

“You’ve been calling me by _my_ name.” He says, pulling out only to thrust back in shallowly. “All night. And yet, I don’t know yours.”

 

How this mad man can keep up a conversation whilst having sex, Jefferson will never know. He doesn’t dignify the not-question with a response. Instead he swallows thickly, pressing his head into the pillow. His hips arch and he keens between clenched teeth, body trembling. He’s never done this before, no, but he thinks he’ll have to do it again.

 

He makes a mess of them both, not embarrassed that he’s finished first. He’s shocked at the bone deep tiredness that settles over him and he hardly remembers the rest of it.

 

Killian lays beside him when he’s done. They’re not touching anymore, just resting, a few inches space between them. “You owe me a story.” Jefferson reminds, soothing himself with the lazy rocking of the ship.

 

“Suppose I do.” Killian sounds different now, sated and amiable. His accent rich voice rumbles to a soft lull, whispering words of a land far, far away. A land frozen in time where a day could turn into a year and you wouldn’t notice one bit.

 

I

 

Jefferson wakes late in the day, surprised to find himself alone. He dresses as quick as he can with a sticky pain in his arse that throbs more than a hangover headache. A peek around shows him that he’s alone.

 

A lesser man would take to plundering, but a pirate he is not. He slips from the ship less gracefully yet more quietly than he’d boarded her, melding seamlessly with the townsfolk once he’s off the docks. The only thing telling him apart from the commoners, the distinctive hat atop his head.

 

He has a door to build.

 

I

 

_He sees her one day picking mushrooms and she’s so stunning, she gives him pause. He never does make it to Neverland._


End file.
